Talonstreak Avenged
by Talrhean2103
Summary: Talonstreak Trilogy Book 1: During the first year of the Pevensies' reign, the four young monarchs, and Narnia herself, are subject to a huge threat revealed to them by a seemingly mysterious man, who has more of a background than even he knows to let on.
1. The Gentle Queen

**AUTHOR NOTE**

_Hey, this is my first attempt at a fan fiction for any series, and I thought where better to start than C.S Lewis's realm of Narnia? Recently I've been reading all the Narnia books over, and watching the films God knows how many times over, and have fallen in love with the idea of a fantasy realm which connects with our world. Every time I've watched the films or read the book I've had my own adaptations going on in my head, even as silly as 'What would I do if I was in that situation?' and that kind of a thing. Eventually I thought of this main character, a mysterious ranger type with more of a background than he lets on. I thought of what his ties could be with the Pevensies, and this whole story sort of advanced from that._

_I don't know how often I will be updating this story, adding chapters and that, but I'd imagine it will be somewhere within the region of 2-4 weeks for a chapter. I can't say much more about the time frame of this project. All I know is that I hope for it to be a good experience for both me to write it and for you to read it. I have a fairly rough plan for the storyline, I've got the idea of a trilogy in my head and already I'm planning the next book's stories (even though I havent even started this one!), some bits of the plan are in detail and some bits far from it, so if you'd like to add in your own suggestions I could tweak the story to please you. Please review so I know how many I'm writing for (if I have no reviews I have no readers, and if I have no readers I may as well have no story), and just generally try to enjoy it! _

**So here it is, Talonstreak Avenged, Book 1 of the Talonstreak Trilogy.**

**Genre - Fantasy, Spiritual, Adventure.**

**Age - T - scenes shouldn't be too violent and there will be little, if no, sexual references or bad language.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Chronicles of Narnia - Talonstreak Avenged<strong>

**Chapter 1 - The Gentle Queen**

**OOOOO****  
><strong>

The Autumn's Sun hung proudly over the lush terraces of the esteemed Cair Paravel when the man caught sight of the magnificent fortress. Its tall spires glistened, blinding silver as the golden rays of the young Sun reached out over it, in a loving embrace. The surrounding ice-white capped mountains hung in the distance, a magnificent backdrop for such majestic scene. To the east, beyond the bustling capital of the fortress settlement, the usually roaring sea was held in an iconic state of extreme calm. The slight wake reflected the amazing sunlight, which gently caressed the vast plain of deep blue.

The man smiled, an almost polite smile, not one of extreme gratitude. Like the kind of smile you'd smile if you saw an old acquaintance, not the sort of smile you'd smile if you saw your best friend waving across at you.

With a flick of his light brown, long and gorgeously straight hair, he walked forwards, a solemn kind of walk, as if knowing you aren't going to be accepted somewhere. His deep brown bow lay strapped over his right shoulder, alongside his ivory quiver, and he kept running his fingers over it, wondering if it was such a good idea to have his weapon behind his back, as he wandered into foreign territory. He decided against the idea of having it wielded beside him, as it was for the unsuspecting residents of the castle he was doing this.

If they wanted him dead, after all, it was their loss.

**OoOoO**

The young woman sat at her lightly furnished dressing table, located at the far Eastern end of what could only be described as a luxurious room that many can only dream of in our world. Of course, though, this is not our world. This is the fascinating, magical world of Narnia, a realm so unique that very few from our world have ever been there before, lest ever heard of it. It is a world full of Talking Beasts, Fauns, Naiads, Dryads, and many other mystical creatures found only really in old mythology from our world.

The last reported Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve in Narnia were the four noble Kings and Queens whose stories feature heavily in this tale. In our world they were just regular boys and girls, two brothers and two sisters, Peter, the eldest, Susan, Edmund and the youngest of them all, Lucy.

They lived in Finchley during the Second World War, and while their Father was away at war, they were evacuated to the house of one Digory Kirke. From there, they found a magical wardrobe that led them to the world in which this tale is set. There, they defeated a ferocious Witch, Jadis, who was self-proclaimed Queen of that land. Then the deity of that world, a mystical lion who goes by the name of Aslan, granted them the thrones of the land for their triumph, and it is but a few months later that we return to them now.

This woman, who was none other than Queen Susan the Gentle, dazed as her conscience went out to her brother, High King Peter the Magnificent, who right now was battling hags, Talking Wolves, and who knows what else as the Narnians set out to destroy small pockets of resistance that remained from the White Witch's service. Narnia was a happy place, with fair rulers and little fighting. No serious wars were going to be waged for a long while, everyone philosophised, as they went about their happy business.

The Queen wore the most brilliantly green silk robes, draping from her shoulders down to her silver knee-boots. The seams were patterned gold, and they wove in and out of each other, mimicking the movements of the two Dryads weaving in and out of Susan's way, brushing her shining brown hair, moisturising and conditioning the soft, sensuous tips. Dryads, or Tree Spirits as they are often referred to in texts of our world, are mysterious creatures; humanoid shapes, with human shadows, but if you ever looked upon one you would never have thought to call it human. For the human shape was entwined with leaves, bark and beautiful figures, not a sound being made when their feet touched the floor, as they worked about making Susan's already stunning beauty even more sublime.

Susan was the kind of Queen that nations fought wars over, and people did terrible things to obtain, in texts from our history. However, this was not so in Narnia. Do not let you think that this means people did not admire her beauty in Narnia, but very few of them ever felt the desire or the greed for her to be theirs.

She had the most deep, stunning brown eyes one could ever have laid eyes on. Her silky, long brown hair reached her waist with a subtle flick and her lips shone as the Sun gleamed upon them. Little, if no, make-up was her style, and she managed to retain her natural beauty with surprising ease.

As she looked into the mirror, dreaming about her brother at war, worrying for her brother's safety, she also thought back to home, and what life was like in Finchley. But no, this did not feel right. The thought of Finchley being called home seemed alien to her. As her mother and father's faces both faded away from her memory, she reflected upon what 'home' really was.

Was it where she was born? No, the dusty, cobbled streets of Leeds didn't seem to satisfy her definition of home. The house where she had spent the best part of her life? No, no matter how often she used to refer to the dull brick-worked building as home, when she used to live there, it did not feel right.

Well what, then, was home to her? Surely not the land which she had only been resident of for no more than a few months? The land which she had only so recently been accepted in? But thinking deeper, she realised that home was the term only to define the place where she felt right.

Back in Finchley, she had few acquaintances and fewer friends. Even they were not genuine friends; they spoke badly of her behind her back and abused her when she was with them. No, those faces meant nothing to the young Queen anymore, as if they did anyway. Here, in Narnia, everyone not only accepted her, but loved her, for what she was.

But what was she? Sure, she was a bright girl. She wasn't afraid to admit it. She did well in school and got by in life. Her temperament was unmatched by others, and she used her logic to her advantage. But this didn't make her Nobility material. A whole nation of people who had never known of her a few months before had willingly accepted her as their ruler. She was almost glad that they saw her skills as monarch, because quite frankly, she doubted herself as Queen. She wasn't cut out for the high life. Sure, back in Finchley, she'd been to a few 'posh-do's', and she did like being treated like an upper class resident, at times, but every day was a bit much.

Her role, she felt, in this world had already been cut out for her; she just had to fill the gap. It may seem easy, being called 'Your Majesty' and 'Queen' constantly, but in reality it is so hard. People put their faith in you, and you were responsible for their well-being. Susan couldn't cope with the strain, in honesty, so she masked it with courteous bows and longing smiles.

Peter was the perfect King. A natural swordsman and a strong, forward head to match, his title of 'the Magnificent' perfectly matched his well-being. The old loved and cherished him, the young looked up to him as the person they all aspired to be. He could lead armies into battle, any number against any number, and come out on top.

As for Edmund, 'the Just', what he lacked in strength, he made up for with words and diplomatic skills that were unheard of in our world. He could unite a people so lost in their own grudges that everyone else had lost hope in them, without breaking a sweat. Although saying this, he was also deadly on the field of battle.

And Susan's youngest sibling, Lucy, was something else entirely. Being the first one through the wardrobe door from our land, she has never lost hope in the people of Narnia. She had the sweet air of innocence that could end a battle as quickly as one of her brothers started it. Her healing cordial that Father Christmas gave to her in her first days of Narnia fully reflected her subtle, yet amazing power of being able to help people. Sure Pete and Ed could win wars and help nations rise (and fall), but not a lot was more powerful than being able to help single people at any one time.

But Susan, what did Susan have? Good looks, and the ability to do well in class? These things helped a lot back at school, in Finchley. It allowed lads to get a good look at her and her grades always came out on top, but for a Monarch, she really needed something else. Something for the people. Her people. Something to help them out of the situations that lay ahead, political or individually. Something she lacked.

The Queen was awoken from her trance as a young looking Faun ran into her room. Fauns were odd little creatures, with the bottom half of a two legged goat, the torso of a human, and the head, also, of a human, but with little devil-like horns. They were usually a very loyal, friendly people, but were often shaky and nervous souls. They specialised in Diplomacy, resolving situations with their clever use of words. Susan, with a quick shake of her head, hid her previous feelings under another mask as the Faun looked at her with a sense of urgency.

This particular little Faun was very nervous looking, and clearly very young. His skin was untarnished, and his furry legs were a soft beige colour, the usual colour of a Faunlet's fur. Around his bare torso he wore a white sash, outlined with navel green patterns. His little horns were hardly visible as they protruded from his head.

He bowed extremely low, and was left in that position for a fair few seconds until the Gentle Queen pardoned him. With a shy look on his face, he looked bravely into Susan's eyes, his heart clearly pounding.

"Your Majesty, a Stranger approaches the Cair." he said formally. Susan took slight interest. Strangers at the fortress castle of Cair Paravel were not an uncommon sight. Many foreigners sought alliances with the Narnian nobles.

"Armed?" she asked shortly.

"No, he has a bow but he remains unarmed. I think its dangerous sign."

Susan suddenly looked up. This was her chance to prove herself as the Queen she was made to be. Facing a possible danger head on, alone, risking her life, Susan knew she could prove not only to her people, but to herself too, that she was worthy of the throne that was too easily given to her.

"Do not grow into the habit of coming to rash conclusions, for it will not fair thee well, little one. I shall meet with him alone." she cautioned menacingly. The Faun retreated a little, clearly scared in the face of a Queen.

"Your Majesty..."

"If it will go any way to making you feel better, I'll go armed, but I shall see what he has to offer."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall make sure you are reinforced from the Cair..." said the little Faun shyly.

"Just...go." snapped Susan.

The young Faun scampered off, his little legs shaking wildly. Susan felt she had been a little bit too harsh, but quickly let it go and jumped off her small stool, picking up her light brown short bow and cream white, gold trimmed quiver on the way.

She was going to prove herself. She was.

**OoOoO**

The man heard his hollow footsteps echo across the courtyard as the tan wrappings around his feet transferred from the softness of the muddy earth to the hard, cold stone of the castle's carved paving. His bow still strapped across the shoulder of his faded, brown linen vest, he walked forward with a false sense of confidence. The Sun's heat was absorbed by his dark brown leather trousers, gilded with gold seams.

He increased the magnitude of his cocky swagger, but inside, he was worrying. He had never been to a place as grand as this, as a visitor. Well, he thought visitor, but they weren't expecting him. In fact, he doubted their hospitality would overrule their hostility towards such a man.

He was taking a big risk, but he knew it would pay if he made it in alive.

**OoOoO**

Susan strode through the vibrant halls of marble and stone, bow and quiver safely behind her back. She felt secure with them on her, as she was becoming a better shot and a better markswoman. The man who had given her this finely crafted weapon, none other than Father Christmas himself, had said to her upon handing her the bow, that "It does not easily miss."

Within days of training with it, she had begun to realise just what he meant. Through some sort of magic, she had guessed, the bow's aim would automatically drift to where she wanted to shoot. Of course, this is not to say that using the weapon required no skill, but when she was to put her trust into the bow, she found it a lot easier to use.

She reached the entrance to the castle quickly, being taught all of the shortcuts and passages throughout the marble building carefully upon arrival.

The entrance was a huge circular room, with large, varnished oak double-doors on the one side, and with a double staircase opposite. The walls were plastered with painting-frames of old monarchs, mostly all Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve. Directly to the right of the doors, there were four empty frames. These were to be filled soon, as the Faun who had been given the task had not yet finished his set of masterpieces.

Across the jagged stone floor, lay a large red carpet which ran from the doors, into a large circle in the centre of the room, and then back to a path as it split up the winding double staircase.

Susan walked quickly across this carpet, heaving open the heavy wooden doors on the opposite side of the grand room. Through the doors lay a stone courtyard; a rectangle of stone immediately outside of the castle, with six large stone pillars surrounding it, three on each side. The cracks in the pillars became more apparent now, but this just added to the tone of the fortress. Susan looked up and saw her challenge directly in front of her, as she stood at the top of the large set of marble leading steps from the door.

The man seemed to have seen her too, as he walked across the stone of the courtyard. The wind rustled the leaves in the surrounding trees slightly as the stranger kept his pace constant. Susan, feeling threatened more than anything, pulled her bow from behind her back as she started the advance down the steps.

By the time she had reached the bottom, the stranger was already halfway across the stone. She drew a red-feathered arrow from her quiver, as the stranger stopped his stride, at the very centre of the landmark. Susan felt her confidence grow, and nocking her arrow to her bowstring, she advanced on the man in full battle posture.

He smiled, half egotistically, and half warily, at this sight that most would be intimidated by.

"Queen Susan, the Gentle?" he asked with a hint of irony, a hand over his brow, shielding his eyes from the Sun. "I see that title befits you, your majesty." He had an unexpectedly gentle voice, not like the rough shaggy voice Susan was expecting. Still, his soft, dulcet tones did nothing to hide the cocky arrogance of his greeting.

_He must think he's so funny_, mused Susan. The Imposing Queen was not so amused; "Talk or die, bandit. I have no time for petty games." She snapped shortly.

"Is this how you treat all of your guests?"

"Don't talk such rot. You stand before Royalty, far nobler than you shall ever have the good fortune to look upon in your self-served numbered days."

"As I am most humbly aware, your Majesty. However, this does not alter the fact that I impossibly outbest you in skills with a bow. Something worth noting for an archer as amateur as yourself, your Majesty."

This man was beginning to anger Susan. The way he finished everything with the almost sarcastic use of her title was infuriating. She could swear that this man was purposefully trying to annoy her. Yet this did not distract her from his words.

The Queen tried to dismiss his challenge of archery skills, yet she couldn't help noticing the stranger's brilliantly dark brown bow, lined all over with exotic gold engravings, and the way his fingers twitched occasionally, begging for a bowstring to be laid in them. She recognised this master-bowman's trait from her Centaurian trainer, Austierre, and suddenly felt Goosebumps emanate from her skin.

Susan had not felt this intimidated in a long while, and she had met many intimidating nobles from other lands over the past few months.

At this time, a small crowd of many stern faces had gathered on the inside of the open doors. Made up of Centaurs and Fauns, they all tensed up at every step that Susan took towards the finely attuned man, every breath she uttered. Heading the crowd, Susan noticed as she quickly glanced back, was her little sister Lucy.

She was easily recognisable from her tiny stature and beaming innocence. Her light, fairy brown hair reached just past her shoulders, as if it was being grown out of a bob. It was topped by a delicate golden circlet, intertwining in different shades of the soft yellow metal. She bore a vibrant red, silken dress crafted only by the finest dwarf-crafters in all of Ettinsmoor, a gift from over the border to solidify an ancient alliance. The silks were the kind that we can only dream of ever seeing in our world.

Susan, however, took no real notice of this occurrence and continued the slow, steady approach on the stranger, keeping her deep brown eyes, and not to mention her bow's aim, directly upon him.

"Don't tempt me, bandit." she answered his challenge fiercely.

"Your Majesty," he started. Susan had had quite enough of this false use of her title. Any second now she would snap. "With all due respect, I grow weary of your empty threats." Any second, and he would regret being so arrogant and cocky. "I know you won't release that arrow," Any second, and she would prove herself to be a true Queen. "You don't have the _guts_." An overwhelming rage consumed Susan at this point.

All that could be heard was a soft _twang_ as the arrow left the string. Within the second, it had sunk itself quite nicely in the man's chest, causing him to bleed profusely. She had aimed at the heart, and she just stood, shocked, bow still up and in her hand as the arrow had hit home. Within an instant the stranger had crippled to the floor and lay motionless. The crowd behind Susan stayed solemnly still, as the little girl at the front ran out down the steps screaming at Susan. Susan couldn't quite make out what she was saying, as her whole world became a blur.

Lucy knelt beside the motionless figure lying on the floor, as she drew out a vial containing an overpowering red liquid. As she poured a drop over the wound and a drop in the gaping man's mouth, all Susan could take note of was the blood.

Gushing out of the wound, covering the stone paving all around the lifeless body, the Queen quickly realised that the man's life hung empty because of her. As the area of blood upon the floor increased dramatically, the young Queen realised this was not noble. This was not what the people wanted. And now a possible innocent lay on the floor in front of her.

She quickly returned to her senses as she ran towards her sister, still kneeling across the body, keeping his head above the level of the rest of his body. She knew what she had to do. Cringing to herself, she snapped the arrow protruding from his heart in two, and threw the feathered end to the floor.

With a hard grimace, and after mustering all of her will, she pushed the barbed end of the arrow, already lodged nicely in place, through his body and out of the other side. Susan had been taught that this was the only way to remove an arrow from the body, and it wasn't a pretty affair. We can only be thankful that the stranger was not conscious at this point, or else he would be in a world of pain. Lucy reached over and dropped another drop of her wild-red liquid on the wound, the droplet sizzling into steam as it came into contact with the wound.

Susan couldn't take anymore. She had pulled the arrow out of his body (which now lay, broken in two pieces, on the blood covered floor next to him), and this had been enough for her. She had to get away. She was already blood shy and the fact that all of the blood was on her hands was just too much for her.

The Queen stood up to her full height, and, focusing all of herself into not throwing up in front of everybody, pushed her way through the amassing crowd of advisors, as they struggled to move out of the way fast enough.

Too much had happened that afternoon, and as Susan reflected on her rash decision, she quickly came to terms with the fact that she really wasn't good enough to help her subjects. As she walked, with pace, back to the her quarters, she thought on how she couldn't even hold her rage against someone who didn't even offer so much as a threat to her. She had to change, for the good of her people.

She had to change, for the good of _herself_.

**OOOOO**


	2. Council At War

**The Chronicles of Narnia - Talonstreak Avenged**

**Chapter 2 - Council at War**

**OOOOO****  
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The harsh rain beat against the beautifully decorated stained-glass, thick windows of the Cair. The fortress town was silent surrounding the main Keep, as most opted to stay indoors, the adults comforting the children, who were screaming at the occasional dramatic clasp of thunder.

On days like this, a Narnian's work came shuddering to a halt. Narnia and her people were too fair a race to make the average person work on a depressing day like this.

Other than the sentries stationed around the town, the streets were empty, which only helped contribute to the dull atmosphere.

In the rich halls of the castle, the noise was also quiet and subdued. Other than the odd coming of age Faun scurrying around the cold, echoing labyrinth of the Cair's interior, there was a sense of loneliness for those there.

**OoOoO**

Inside the top of the Westernmost tower, lay a room with walls lined with the most vibrant, detailed maps of strange, wild places covered with dots, pins and other markers, right up to the ceiling. Atop the ceiling lay a huge clear-glass dome, faintly decorated with artistic representations of events past, treaties and battles alike.

There was a beautifully painted tree sapling in the one, surrounded by youthful-looking animals and four humans, two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve. One of the boys, as with the girl standing next to him, looked barely over the age of ten, and was extremely grubby, as if he came from a harsh urban area of London at the turn of the 18th Century. Of course, the people of Narnia knew nothing of this, but people of our world would most likely recognise them as rough Cockneys.

Standing out from these two, almost as if in a 3-D reconstruction, were two adults, one man and one woman. They were finely suited, surrounded by the majority of animals, with majestic, noble faces on them. Atop their heads lay two beautiful crowns, crafted by dwarves from gold, but curiously leafy looking.

In this picture, as with every other picture there, there featured the same Golden Lion that dominated the centre of the dome. It filled one's heart with feelings of Joy and Compassion when one looked upon this fine masterpiece. The Lion was standing proud, roaring a roar that could almost be heard from within the domed room. His mane was a sea of the purest of Gold, and his muscular presence dominated the hearts of the Narnians.

In the centre of the room was a circle table carved from stone, lined with rubies and emeralds, as bright and vibrant as the day is long. Around it stood a whole concoction of different creatures. There were Fauns talking lazily with Badgers, while stout Deer stood arguing with defiant Dwarves.

The noise of the room died down, however, when the bulky doors slammed open and through them walked a line of six centaurs, two apiece.

Centaurs were incredible creatures, and renowned astronomers. Making their move depending upon the stars in the sky, their astounding precision made them invaluable field Generals, deploying the deadliest of tactics. With the sleek body of a muscular war-horse, and the ripped torso of a Human, these incredibly powerful Narnians made for some of the toughest warriors on the field, mixing their amazing kick and their bulging biceps to create chaos among the enemy.

Following the Centaurs, striding in his own air of royalty, was a human barely into his teen years.

His hair was black and growing from short, reaching his ears in a mass of jagged layers. His face was very wise looking, and not just for his age. He wore basic robes, a simple grey lined with silver around the neck. Simplicity was the best way to describe this boy King, as he walked into the room, head held straight and unmoving. A look of worry spread across his face, frowning uncontrollably.

For in case you have not guessed, this man is no other than King Edmund the Just, and very grave news has reached his ears.

The court in front of him bowed majestically, before rising again and picking up on his facial expressions. There was a momentary solemn silence, which was broken by a squirrel on the opposite side of the circular table.

"What news, Your Majesty?" he piped up, with a naïve sounding, almost squeaky voice.

"I bring word from my Royal brother;" Edmund started grimly, "the assault on the White Spire has failed." The room buzzed in low grumbles of disappointment.

"The Witches dwelling stays under rebel control?" asked a disgruntled Dwarf, "How? The attack force sent by our High King was more than enough to wipe out a small army!"

"Was the intelligence wrong? Were there more numbers in the opposition?" asked a wizened badger.

"Ah, I knew this was coming," bragged a Marshwiggle in the corner, his overly long arms waving wild gestures at the others, almost comically. "Let's see, unreliable equipment? A traitor in the midst? The rebels had a hidden alliance all along? Oh, the Witch's magic was conjured up, wasn't it?"

A black dwarf, who was recently turned to the side of the Narnians after his old Queen was slain by the Lion, walked forwards, cutting through the overreaction of the 'Wiggle.

"Don't be so stupid, Mudlugger." There was a momentary pause as those of the Table looked across at him. His tone suggested a severe dislike towards the Narnians. "I think I speak for many here too scared to speak up their views, when I blame the incompetence of our new High King."

"Enough!" scolded Edmund, breaking his own grave silence. "Your opinions are well received, but none shall speak of my brother that way!"

"But surely if he can't lead a sizeable army against…"

"Slay your tongue, Dwarf, or I will slay it for you. Mudlugger was correct in one of his seemingly endless suggestions. The Witch's remains had a hidden alliance, with a band of Calormen brigands."

At this, the room erupted into a roar of dismay.

"Those treacherous little fiends!"

"How dare they?"

"Breaking this ancient alliance?"

Edmund's thundering voice broke the disarray for a second time, "Silence! I will not have my council turn into a mass of disorganized noise!" Silence suddenly ensued.

"Better. Now then, these _brigands_, as I did emphasise earlier, were outcasts from the nation of Calormen. The Tisroc can't be blamed for this outburst. However, we shall be sending one of our own to discuss this matter with him, to find out whether we should be expecting any more of a Calormen resistance.

"Peter's army, on the other hand, is a much more important concern at this time. They are routing, dishevelled and broken. From what I could gather from the distressed Faun's report, they are being tailed by more rebels. Their moral shattered, even with our High King heading them, they shall need assistance losing their pursuers. For this matter, I have decided to send the Great Cats of the Southern March, with my Royal sister Queen Susan's permission. They are elite, and should help in the deliverance of Peter's remaining army."

A murmuring agreement spread throughout the council, and then another long silence broke out, before one stark black Raven, perched on the Eastern side of the table, spoke what many others were thinking;

"But what if they weren't outcasts?" he asked incredulously. The King made to argue, before the black bird cut him off. "Please, Your Majesty, if I may. All of us around this table are fully aware that the Tisroc, or all of Calormen for that matter, are not the most reliable of people. I feel it is fair to say that most of us have been stabbed in the back by them before…" Edmund looked up at the Raven, acknowledgement woven into the deep blue of his eyes.

"I understand your concerns, Clawfoot, yet I must raise the point that these dealings in the past were simple matters. They may have occasionally broken a trade agreement or supplied our enemies in the past, but we're not looking at anything nearly as serious as fortifying and fighting alongside our enemies. No, I must dismiss your claims. The Tisroc knows to respect our Crown."

A badger stepped forward, his keen nose sniffing the air around him before he spoke.  
>"With all due respect, Your Majesty, you have not been on this council long enough to understand the Calormen. If it is your wish that we do not act upon these '<em>brigands<em>', then do so at your own risk. But please, by the Lion's Mane, be very cautious when dealing with these treacherous followers of Tash."

"Your concern is duly noted, Badger. I appreciate the gracious way you have shared your view upon such concerns," Edmund replied, and then with an incredulous look to the Black Dwarf, added, "at least I know some of us can be civil here." The Dwarf stared at the King in disgust and then stormed out of the room, leaving silence in his wake.

After a slight pause of anxiousness, Edmund stood up to full height, gestured his Centaurian bodyguard, and, in the most kingly way possible, addressed his Court of Advisors;

"Council dismissed, and may Peter return home safe…" he added solemnly.

**OoOoO**

The candlelight reflected off the small, vastly blue jewel that crept its way slowly down the soft, lightly freckled cheek of the Gentle Queen's face. Regular breathing changed to restrained, gasping hiccups as Susan sobbed.

She felt all the more stupid for it; Queens didn't cry, not even the gentle ones. But this thought didn't stop the oncoming stream, as Susan wept.

He was just some cocky stranger who had waltzed into _her_ castle, acting as if he owned the place! Surely Susan could not be blamed for acting rashly?

Susan shook her head, stopping her tears as her body continued to shake uncontrollably. She had to stop moping, had to get out of this dull, dreary place before it consumed her.

Ignoring the hard rain as it beat down upon the window, thuds echoing throughout the still room, Susan picked up her travelling cloak and left in a hurry.

**OoOoO**

The finely patterned door slammed shut as Edmund stalked into his own private quarters.

His face flushed a bright red as he flung himself down onto his smooth velvet red bed, his hands over his face. He had never liked meeting with the Council, it always seemed to drag on.

Yet this time, something else was bothering him. The Black Dwarf, newly appointed Councillor of Narnia, had always had something against him and his Royal Siblings. Edmund feared that adopting him into the official ceremonies was a bad idea, since after all, only a few months ago he was a strong fighter for the enemy.

Susan and Peter's words, however, rushed back to him in a flash. They had always used to tell him he was an 'island', untrusting and hard to get close to.

Maybe the Dwarf didn't have bad intentions after all. Maybe it was Edmund's self-paranoia that put him in this state, as it had many times before.

_Still_, thought Edmund with a slight smile, _it doesn't mean I have to like him_.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the door suddenly flew open and in ran the youthful, vibrant face of Edmund's youngest sister Lucy. He quickly realised that something was wrong, the usual shine in her face gone, and small, delicate teardrops were beginning to emerge at the corners of her eyes.

Edmund's first thought was that she must have found out about the High King's failure. He had specifically ordered everyone who knew not to taint the young girl's pure heart with any such information, told everyone not to replace such an innocent soul with one of worry and pain.

Instantly his mind switched to the Dwarf, a menacing look appearing on his face.

However, the next words to come out of Lucy's mouth were completely different to what Edmund expected.

"Edmund…" she struggled to speak, "Susan."

His head snapped righteously upwards, and within an instant, Edmund stalked out of the room, closely followed by Lucy's tottering footsteps.

**OOOOO**


	3. The Elderflower

**AUTHOR NOTE**

_Sorry about the long wait for this chapter! My house was burgled and my laptop was stolen, and although I have a replacement laptop I've been bogged down with my GCSE revision. My exams finish June 27__th__, so after then I should be able to update this more regularly. I must admit I have been eager to get this next chapter up._

_But before that, I would just like to ask readers how they are finding my writing style, whether it is too dull and dreary or whether it is acceptable (please be honest!). I understand that maybe the first two chapters were a bit 'angsty' (especially with Susan and Edmund), but I am trying to change that! Please, any pointers would be well appreciated, and I would just like to add that if you have anyone who you think would enjoy this story (I know, it's early days yet!), could you please pass the word around? Many thanks, __**Talrhean2103**__._

_So here is Chapter 3 of Talonstreak Avenged, Book One of the Talonstreak Trilogy. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Chronicles of Narnia - Talonstreak Avenged<strong>

**Chapter 3 - The Elderflower**

**OOOOO**

Susan liked it here.

The way the birds sang to her as they flew overhead, as they often did, with not a care in their tiny, beaked world. The way the flowers waved to her in the crisp autumn winds, giving her their little greetings. And the way the trees stood still, majestic in their acknowledgement of the young monarch walking through their land.

The castle's gardens were luxurious to say the least, standing the test of time throughout all of the eras of Kings and Queens gone. Throughout the dreaded, cursed One Hundred Year Winter, the wildlife had survived. Some people said that the garden had been enchanted by Aslan himself, as he had breathed life into the landscape eons ago.

And even through the dark, stormy rainclouds that rained overhead, which had scared off the birds so that none remained, which had stopped the flowers from waving peacefully and which had disturbed the trees so that they no longer stood stationary; the garden did not fail to soothe the Queen as she walked its many cobblestoned paths.

For the garden had never failed to cheer Susan up somewhat, during her months of being Queen. Whenever things became too infuriating in the Council Chambers, or whenever that blasted Black Dwarf had made another underhand comment, Susan would walk the gardens and let their calm guide her to an inner equilibrium.

Although the lack of birds was distinct within the rainy skies, Susan felt at peace, letting all doubts flow out of her, not unlike the raindrops flowing down the damp bricks of the Cair.

Shifting her soaked green cloak to a more comfortable position around her shoulders, Susan made her own way back inside. The garden had worked its magic, and now that she was back to her usual, calm self, she began to notice that she was dripping wet. And with a small giggle, which quickly turned into a little laugh, then transforming itself furthermore into a thunderous roar of glee, Susan reached the old, chipped and rusted oak door.

Yes, it was very fair to say that Susan did like it here.

**OoOoO**

"She _shot_ him?" Edmund roared incredulously. His subtle grey robe heavily contrasted the fierceness in his brown eyes.

The echoes of the two sibling's steps sounded throughout the whole hall as they made their way through the castle. Lucy's valiant red gown, embroidered with beautiful, mysterious hazel patterns, swept across the carpeted floor. The flames flickered in brackets set up at numerous intervals throughout the dark corridor, providing the only light for Edmund and Lucy. As they climbed a small, stone stairway, Lucy made to look at her brother.

"He was armed, Ed!" she retorted, shocked at her brother's reaction to her story, "He was approaching the Cair and he wasn't obeying her orders to stop!"

"I'm not saying it's unreasonable, Lu," Edmund argued, "I'm just saying this is Susan we're talking about! This _place_ is changing her and I don't like it!" He spat the last four words out angrily.

Lucy seemed to retreat a little from his rage. "What do you mean, this _place?_"

"Narnia!" He cried in a fit of temper.

They paused, the hall quickly becoming silent. All Edmund got from Lucy was a reprimanding look in return. She looked aghast. "You would place blame upon your own _country_? By the mane, Edmund, are you saying you regret coming here?"

"I don't know what I'm saying, Lu, I just know that we have a mother and a father back home, and it's been months since we've seen them!" Edmund replied with remorse, "I miss them, that's all…"

"I miss them too, Ed," consoled Lucy, "But we have no way of getting home, and we're in a land that needs our help! These people need us, and I'm sure Aslan has a plan for us to get back _once we've helped Narnia_! Don't say you feel nothing for her."

Edmund seemed deep in troubled thought. All four of the Pevensie siblings showed signs of missing their world in one way or another, but none brooded about it as Edmund did.

"Lu, you don't understand," he started carefully, "All I've done since arriving here is betrayed you all, nearly won the war for the Jadis and collapsed numerous trade agreements and alliances for Narnia. You can't deny that Archenland only ride with us because tradition tells them to. I was a little pest back home but at least I was _only_ a nuisance, no lives were endangered because of me back then…"

"Ed, don't blame yourself for seeking the White Witch, none of us blame you for that," Lucy smiled, as they continued walking, "If anything, we're to blame for pushing you aside. But Narnia has done us good, I mean back home I was just a snivelling little child, now look at me!" She did a mock twirl, which caused a bit of laughter from an already less-concerned looking Edmund.

"And you've become less annoying!" she joked. This resulted in a light hit on the arm.

"No fair, Lu!" Edmund whined jokingly.

Lucy quickly straightened herself, as the two started walking back down the corridor again, "Now come on, we have a _guest_ to introduce ourselves to."

Edmund quickly righted himself too, "Yes, and lets apologise for the our Royal Sister's _appalling _behaviour." He smirked, causing a small giggle from the youthful Lucy.

**OoOoO**

The flickering of the small oil lamp didn't do much to provide the small room with any real kind of light, all it succeeded in doing was brightening a small fraction of the marble-stoned wall near the bedside. The bed itself, situated in the corner of the room, was made of the finest bronze, a lavish white duvet furnishing it softly. The stained glass window on the east wall, originally designed to be subtly beautiful, flashed in the lightning raging outside, the face of a Golden Lion imprinted on it, watching the room peacefully.

Lying in the bed, a drained body lay rather limply, shirtless and bandaged around the chest as his long, brown hair lay messy around his head. All he wore was a simple dry-brown pair of linens. The bandage itself was neatly applied, though rough turns in the man's sleep had left it worse for wear. A splash of noble red spread itself across the centre.

The man stirred as his eyes slowly began to open, his blurred world beginning to come into focus. First the greys and whites of the wall in front of him began to take colour, then the strange wooded table next to his bed could be made out, until he blinked and when he finally came to, he found himself in a strange place, much to regal for his liking. And he panicked. The bed began to creak as he had a massive seizure in a fit of hostile terror.

His eyes opened fully and as he screamed, the bandage that was wrapped around his chest began to rip from the strain. His vibrant blue eyes were stricken with fear as they saw only black, not recognising anything they had previously looked upon.

All of a sudden, beyond the castle walls, a tremor of thunder erupted throughout the night sky, which was suddenly lit up by a fantastic flash of lightning. In the cold room where the terror-stricken man lay restless, the stained glass window was brightly illuminated by the lightning, the Lion's face burning itself into the poor man's mind. The moment the man's eyes rested upon this otherwise terrifying image, his body stilled instantly, his pulse dropping to the norm. He was at peace.

His breathing back to normal, the man blinked and looked around him. He immediately looked down at his chest, where a vicious looking wound was healing quite nicely. He couldn't remember exactly how it had gotten there, but after calming from his previous seizure, he wasn't overly bothered by how he had got it. Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled himself to an upright position in the bed, waiting to be seen to.

**OoOoO**

The old, battered, yet somehow picturesque oak door sitting at the end of the regal corridor was a stark contrast to the bareness of the torch lit walls surrounding it. As Edmund looked upon them, seemingly out of place in comparison to the other new, well-conditioned doors on either side of the corridor, his face grew stern, an almost worrying face to be seen on one so young. Lucy picked up on his stiffness and looked at him questioningly.

"We're here." He stated simply. He hated formal meetings, especially ones with a stranger that his sister had tried to kill. It always made him nervous.

Lucy, however, took no notice of this and skipped merrily to the door. Pausing upon arrival, she looked back at her older brother. "Well," she asked humorously, "aren't you coming?"

Edmund seemed to be snapped out of a trance. "Hmm? Yes, of course Lu", he replied cautiously.

When he stood by his sibling's side, they both looked at each other awkwardly.

"Well, do we knock?" Lucy asked unsurely.

Edmund ignored her, turning his hand towards the rusted silver knob as the door creaked loudly. As it opened, light flooded into the room.

What Lucy saw on the other side of the doorway made her gasp. Sitting on the open window's ledge directly opposite her, was a surprisingly young looking man. His golden skin and shining brown locks of hair were not the same as she remembered seeing outside of the castle just hours previously. The storm had subsided, and as he looked out towards the Far East, Lucy followed his line of sight and saw the young Sun slowly beginning to shine through the dark grey clouds. The man himself looked extremely revitalised, and what drew Lucy's attention next was what he held in his hands.

For cupped in both of his hands, he held the most beautiful looking flower Lucy had ever laid eyes on. Although it is fair to say that she had grown so used to Narnia surprising her with such beauty, that she barely had the time to be shocked by its awe, it still didn't fail to take her breath away. The petals were each beautifully designed, almost as if they had been handcrafted by the finest Dwarven artists from across Narnia, each a passionate, fiery crimson.

He slowly held the petals in both hands up to his face, and let the scents wash over him. Smiling slightly, he put the petals down onto the windowsill and looked over at the pair.

"I apologise, your Majesties, I wasn't aware of your presence…" he started peacefully. Lucy was taken away by his caring, deep blue eyes as they fell on her.

Edmund, however, was the first to speak, not once dropping his formal tone. "Please don't excuse yourself, Sir, for it was us who did not knock."

"As you wish, my Lord." He replied calmly. "I must compliment your fine estate here, I feel very comfortable here."

Lucy could not help herself, as she asked him boyishly, "Please, Sir, what was it that you held when we walked in?"

"Ah, your Majesty," he began.

"Please, call me Lucy, for I have never been one for formalities." Lucy interrupted shyly.

"Of course, Queen Lucy. That was a rare blossom that I found within the darkest parts of the Terebinthian Grove, while I was travelling through the islands just off the shore. It is said that the petals of the Elderflower, for that is what it is known as, can soothe a man's serenity and composure, restoring inner peace. And I have found that it does work." He explained, looking lovingly at the vibrant petals that lay next to him.

"If you wouldn't mind, Sir, could I perhaps give it a try?" Lucy asked naively. The man looked up instantly at this, his face losing just a slight bit of the calmness it previously had.

"I must decline, if I may be so bold, for I hold this flower with esteemed sentimental value." He said regretfully.

Edmund quickly stepped in, his face ever stern. "I believe it may be time to skip the formalities, if you don't mind." He said with subtle force, "Who are you, exactly?"

**OoOoO**

Susan's mind was still at peace by the time she had reached the luxuriously carpeted stone floor she had grown so used to walking. The noble reds and delicious golds of the fabric soothed Susan's lightly wrapped feet as she walked them joyously. Even the daunting prospect of having to speak with the one she had so viciously shot mere hours previously was not dropping her mood. Those gardens had certainly done their job, and Susan began to consider the thought of having the place opened to the public, to allow all Narnians to put their minds to rest. But then, with a selfish giggle, Susan thought that it would be best if the garden's beauty was left to her and her alone. It would ruin the novelty of it if anyone could be allowed to see it, to feel it. No, Susan would never allow that.

As she approached the door, she could begin to hear voices behind it already. Guards? No, surely he couldn't have gotten into trouble so soon after waking, could he? But as she got closer she realised that the voices behind the door were ones she recognised and held close to her heart, but what were her two younger siblings doing in there? Quietly, she opened the door and allowed herself in.

"…if you don't mind. Who are you exactly?" Susan witnessed her brother ask the man she had shot, who was now sitting on the windowsill. The man was facing out of the window, breathing in the fresh air lightly. Susan noted how healthy he looked, and smiled. "_Lucy's cordial."_ She thought reflectively.

"Me?" He asked with modesty, "I am just a mere ranger of the Western Forests. I was an affiliate of my late clan Talonstreak. They were my brothers and they were viciously slaughtered by those vile Calormene." The man spat out the last word with pure hatred.

"We do not wish to waste time on your story," Susan started, only now making her presence known, "we asked for your identity."

Edmund and Lucy turned to look at Susan, surprise clear in their faces. However, the man's face showed more serenity than the others, as he turned slowly to look at her. Susan returned the look, but altogether more curtly.

"Ah, Queen Susan, I am delighted as ever to be sat before you, but I fear I must say that you would wish to _waste time_ on my story." The man stated simply, a hint of aggression appearing between the cracks of his mitigate face. "For I am Talrhean, and I hold a dire warning, one that threatens the fate of Cair Paravel, and of Narnia."

Lucy's young face instantly turned to one of terror, her legs beginning to shake right down to her fine velvet shoes. Edmund kept his expression blank, as Susan suddenly began to look fearfully interested.

"Please Sir, do go on…" Lucy whimpered softly.

Talrhean jumped down off the windowsill, and stood face to face with Lucy. He looked her in the eyes, a kindred so soft in his own that it noticeably lifted a small weight off her heart. "Do not fear, little one," he said nicely, holding her small hands in his, "for I have spent many months attempting to reach this message to you, and in those months not one thing has befouled your Kingdom. And so I feel that we still do have time, if we do the right thing." Lucy, not moving her eyes from his or her hand, nodded slowly.

"How can we expect to take your word for this?" Susan began assailingly, challenging Talrhean, "I mean, you just waltzed on into our royal abode, and now speak of some dastardly threat as if we should instantly trust you!"

"With all due respect, your Majesty, 'waltzed' is not the term that I would use, as I _was_ shot upon arrival." Talrhean retorted, rising to the challenge.

Edmund looked at them both apathetically, taking note of obvious tension between them. "Please, this isn't helping to clear anything." He stated with authority, and turning to Talrhean, added, "But what I do not understand, is how it took you months to get this message here, if it is of such importance. Tell me, Talrhean Sir, what have you been doing throughout these past months?"

Talrhean looked at him bleakly. "Surviving." He answered simply. "You think that with a Calormene patrol after my clan, that it is easy to cross the border of Archenland and into Narnia?"

There was a pause as Susan exhaled dubiously, Edmund quickly giving her an apprehensive look. Lucy listened on with intent fixation. Edmund proceeded to sit down on the small, furnished wooden chair next to the bed as he looked at the man before him in the eye, breaking the silence.

"Talrhean, I must admit you have gained my attention." He began cautiously, "So I must now ask you, for I am bursting to know. What is this story you so wish for us to know, and what is this message you hold for us, that so threatens what we know and love?"

Talrhean looked calmly at Susan and Lucy. "Your Majesties may wish to find seating yourselves. I assure you, this will be a long story, and I must have your full intent."

The two busily made to find themselves chairs, as Talrhean sat back down on the windowsill, taking a small breath of air. For a second he looked at the Elderflower, but after short consideration turned away from it. Once the two sisters had found themselves suitable seating, Susan pulling up a chair next to her brother and Lucy opting for sitting at the head of the bed, Talrhean sincerely addressed the trio with certain grimness.

"You may not like what you are about to hear."

**OOOOO**


End file.
